Elixir
by YeahScience
Summary: When a wicked Eraser attack leaves Fang gravely injured, the Flock must get help from the one place they swore never to return to: the School. Book 1 AU, a couple characters are older. T for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everybody,

Little intro. I read MR back in middle school and recently rediscovered it. Needless to say, my literary tastes have changed since then. So, upon finishing SOF, I decided to write a FanFic that reflects a direction Patterson could've taken if MR was for an _older age group_. I took some artistic liberties with the characters (isn't that the point of FanFic?), so I'll list the changes. This FanFic takes place right at the beginning of book 1 and runs as an AU.

Changes I've made:  
~Max, Fang, and Iggy are all 17  
~Ari is 16  
~Nudge is 14

Thanks for reading! R&R's appreciated. ~YeahScience

* * *

This day could not have been more perfect.

A playful breeze carried spritzes of earth and berries, making my hair wave lazily. The grass was vibrant and springy beneath my feet. Only a few cotton-ball clouds drifted across the sky, so there was plenty of sun to warm arms and wings. I had let them out to catch a few rays. When I stretched my wings out to their full span, I felt… bigger. Not only physically, but mentally.

 _What the hell,_ I thought to myself. In one fluid motion, I kicked off my shoes and sprung into the air. I had to flap, awkwardly and ungracefully, to put the first few yards of distance between me and the ground. The blades of grass bent backwards with each stroke of my powerful wings.

And then I was truly flying.

Fifty feet at first, then a hundred, and I leveled off at about one-fifty. My flock shrunk to small beads below me. I could see Gazzy and Angel's blond heads; they were playing some kind of game, make-believe or something. _Every day is a game of make-believe for us. Pretending we're normal._ Nonetheless, I felt a deep, resonating pride at their strength, inward and outward. They were my little fledglings. Literally, I guess.

Iggy had splayed himself out alongside Nudge on a gentle slope. The former had his wings spread out wide, although the latter had opted to keep hers folded tight against her back. She had always been trigger shy with her wings. Iggy, on the other hand, embraced his. Right now, his golden feathers reflected the sun's equally brilliant rays all the way up to my eyes.

The sky wrapped its azure sheets about me and I gave into its embrace. I drew a deep breath of the pure Colorado air and felt a cooling sensation throughout my entire body. You know, because of the whole nine air sacs situation. For a split second, I let my eyelids droop and listened to the world with my raptor ears. Below, the siblings' giggles. To the left and right, the soft whisper of wind through my primaries.

I hit a warm air pocket and let it take control of my flying. When I opened my eyes, I was soaring _upside down._ Immediately, I wobbled unsteadily side to side and "tripped" back into my normal position. My view shifted from sky blue to the familiar grass green. _Okay, that was freakin' cool. Note to self: teach that to the Flock later._

Suddenly, there was a dark streak directly in front of me. Instincts seized control of my muscles and I turned into a dart, rocketing towards the ground with my wings curled around my body for protection. Sweat glazed my palms and the back of my neck, and my already rapid heart had doubled its rate. _Dammit, Max, this is what happens when you get lax. Is it Erasers?_ A thread in my heart snapped when I thought to Gazzy and Angel playing a few seconds ago.

A quick glance to my pursuer nearly caused me to scream. With frustration, not fear.

"Fang, what the hell?" I didn't even bother masking my exasperation. "I thought you were an Eraser." In his suave, Fang-like style, he simply retorted my anger.

"I shaved this morning…"

We simply exchanged glances and dive-bombed downward. The Flock had always made jokes about me and Fang being together. Maybe it was the Yin-Yang, black-white opposite thing we had. I mean, we had it down to the color of our hair. It's not like we hadn't thought about it. But we were… siblings? It seemed like such a strange word for our situation.

On the ground, the rest of the Flock was enjoying a game of tag, buckets of strawberries marking the boundaries of a trampled grass arena. Fang offered a wry smile as we dashed in to join the game. The Gasman snickered as he hovered a few yards over Iggy's head.

"Yes, Gazzy, that does count as cheating," Angel chimed in, reading her brother's mind. "We never said you could fly." My baby's voice was even sweeter than the ripe berry she was gnawing on. Behind her, she flitted her gorgeous, angelic wings. Yeah, Angel was the perfect name for her.

Iggy took advantage of his super sharp hearing and lunged towards Angel. When his fingers grazed her lacy shirt, she squealed with joy. "You got me!" Using her wings for extra power, she whirled around on her feet to triangulate her prey: the rest of the Flock. For a child, she was still pretty damn intense.

"Not so fast!" I shouted as I playfully tackled Angel, scooping her into my arms and rolling in the refreshing grass. Silhouetted against the sky, she seemed to glow. This was the happiest she'd been in- it hurt to think of how long we'd been refugees- a long time. She wrapped her delicate arms around me, squeezing my neck with surprising force. I could barely make out her whisper of, "I love you, Max."

And then, she shrieked. A long, piercing scream that caused my ears to ring. My arms tensed around her as I whipped around to see what had scared her. Behind me, the Flock assumed their defensive positions. Fang slithered into position to my left, Nudge to my right, and Gazzy behind her.

It was an Eraser. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up and I felt chilled through to my hollow bones, for their was something _wrong_ with this picture, beyond the presence of the Eraser.

Nudge voiced what us older kids were all thinking. "Why is there only one?" She risked a quick glance at me, as if I had the answer. Most of the time I did, but there was no explanation for the lone Eraser in front of us. Like their lupine counterparts, they typically traveled in packs, especially when attacking us.

The Eraser was loping sluggishly toward us. Its bulging arms hung unevenly at its sides, which were heaving. Foam dripped from its open mouth, and its tongue was sliding out. Large patches of hair were missing from its already ragged pelt. _There is something seriously wrong with this Eraser. And we're talking about a human-wolf hybrid._

Fang reached into his pocket and opened his menacing switchblade. A gift from Jeb, Fang had always cared deeply for his weapon. When punching just wasn't enough, he whip it out and gut the attacker. The blade itself was 6 inches, about the size of an Eraser's massive canines, and it thirsted for blood.

Iggy spoke up, obviously tense. "What's going on?"

"Eraser," Nudge whispered back. "Just one. It's not acting right." Her voice was level and deliberate, which made me proud.

Angel squirmed out of my arms and landed next to me in the grass. I held her delicate hands in mine, squeezing hard, and guided her behind me. I tried to control my high-strung thoughts; she was undoubtedly reading them.

The Eraser was still stumbling towards us, panting and growling from deep within its rancid throat. Now it was about 15 yards out. Fang slid forward, knife extending gracefully from his hand.

"Fang, what're you-"

"Max, stay where you are."

Normally, I would have kicked his ass for bossing me around. But he was the guy with the knife, and Angel had a death grip on my hand. Nudge's wings peeked out of the back of her shirt, and she had nuzzled into Iggy for protection.

Fang continued his march up to the Eraser. The beast looked up and emitted a sound halfway between a cough and a snarl. Menacing eyes met Fangs', but neither flinched. This whole time, Fang had been slowing unfurling his raven wings. Now they were extended to their fullest, intimidating yet gorgeous. Gazzy shifted his weight from foot to foot as if he was bored. Behind me, Angel peeked out her sweet little face. Nothing had happened.

Yet.

He shot us a quick backwards glance, seemingly asking for permission to attack the Eraser. I shot him a quick nod. Fang turned his head back to the beast, but he was too late.

The Eraser hurled itself at Fang, its monster teeth snapping down on his right wing. Fang shrieked as the paroxysm shot through him. My nucleated blood ran icy; Fang had never made that sound before. In my split second of frozen horror, I saw blood seep out of Fang's wing, saturating his shirt and dripping into a puddle in the grass. His knees buckled and the Eraser seized the opportunity to knock him flat on his back.

"STAY BACK!" I screamed at the rest of the Flock as I leapt towards Fang, who was pinned under the Eraser. Its teeth flashed in a rabid fury, desperately trying to sneak another bite of Fang. He was weakly trying to fight off the mutant freak, but with each bite the teeth came closer and closer to his face. _Hang on, Fang._

With a running start, I got airborne and threw my entire body into the Eraser. It yelped pitifully as my bones reverberated in my hollow body. With the Eraser splayed out on the ground, panting from the pain, I snatched Fang's knife and drove it deep into the beast's furry chest. It roared, spraying foul spittle across my face. The knife slipped out of my hands from the warm, crimson liquid glazed my fingers.

My chest heaved, deep and rapid, blood roaring in my ears. As I felt the Eraser's life slip away, I stared deep into its crazed eyes. The light faded from them, and its body convulsed one last time before collapsing into a pitiful sack of fur and muscle beneath me.

Once I was sure that this piece of crap was dead, I sprinted to Fang. I found him kneeling with his wings slumped behind him. His feathers were dripping with the blood seeping from his wing. And it was bad. The Eraser had taken a massive bite of his right wing's elbow. Around the ragged wound, several feathers were missing, and a flap of skin dangled loosely.

"Holy crap, are you okay?" I yelled, resting my hands on his shoulders. Fang grimaced.

"No…" he hissed through gritted teeth. With a groan and some help from me, he managed to stand. Shakily, of course. The rest of the Flock came running over, shouting questions.

"Guys, shut the hell up," I growled. Fang needed help STAT. We didn't have time for 20 Questions.

"We gotta help him," Nudge said with utmost urgency. "Stop the bleeding." Iggy wriggled out of his shirt, handing it to me so that I could apply pressure to the wound. Fang scrunched up his face as the shirt's fibers grazed the gash. _He's my strong warrior._

Thankfully, the bleeding was beginning to subside. Fang was still terribly weak and shaken up. His skin was pale, his fingers shaking.

"I don'… think I can… fly…" The words barely slipped out of his mouth. There was no breath to them.

"You're gonna have to try," I replied. I swiveled my head around, surveying the Flocks' faces. Each one was paralyzed with fear and anxiety. Angel even had a single tear dangling on her eyelashes. The Gasman was trembling gently, holding his sister's hand. Nudge was chewing on her nails. Iggy shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"Up and away," I barked.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hang in there, Fang," I cooed. With each stroke of his wings, dried blood flaked off and he grimaced deeply. And our speed was pretty rapid; Angel had to pump her wings twice as fast just to keep up.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Nudge piped up from the back of our formation. For a split second, I rolled my eyes. Surprisingly, Fang was able to answer for himself. It was just a grunt, sure, but at least it was something.

Our house was about 150 yards away and approaching rapidly. Even in the midst of a medical emergency, it was still freaking awesome looking. And we got there not a moment too soon; Fang was fading fast, listing sideways and losing altitude steadily. The Eraser had really messed him up.

"Nudge. Iggy. Angel. Gazzy," I barked, adopting my "ass-kicking Max" voice. "Fly ahead and get the first aid kit ready." The four of them surged their wings and shot forward: the epitome of obedience.

Fang continued to regress beside me. His strokes were shallow and his limbs hung lamely from his body. I dipped down below him so that he could rely on my upstroke to carry him forward. I felt his muscles relax and he glided forward for a few yards.

After what seemed like forever (which was, in reality, just 10 seconds), I touched down on our front lawn. Fang, on the other hand, landed hard and stumbled, cursing under his breath.

He was leaning on me pretty heavily all the way up to the front door, which the Gasman opened for us. Right in the foyer, I helped a groaning Fang out of his shirt. Normally, this action would have been accompanied with a chorus of suggestive "Ooos" from the rest of the Flock.

Not today, though.

"We got whatever we could find," Nudge said as she ran out of the bathroom with her arms full of various medical supplies. Iggy took Fang's hand and led him to the dining room table while I tried to remember what Jeb had taught us about first aid. _Clean the wound,_ was the first thing that came to mind.

"Um, Angel!" She jumped at the sound of her name and stared at me with round, terrified eyes.

"Can you go get a big bowl of water, sweetie? Nice big bowl, right from the sink." She immediately whipped around and dashed into the kitchen. Just as I was about to clarify that we needed cold water, she shouted back, "Cold! Got it!" Her freaky powers were helpful, that's for sure.

Our patient was splayed across the table as the Flock scurried around him. What can I say? Us bird kids don't have refined table manners.

Angel returned with a mixing bowl of water, complete with a dish towel, in a matter of seconds. _Smart, smart girl._

"Fang, flip over onto your stomach," I pressed. He obeyed, reluctantly of course, which started the bleeding again. _Damn._ Thanking Angel, I dipped the rag in the cool water and squeezed it over his wing. Fang gnashed his teeth against the pain.

The wound itself was nasty. I could clearly make out the teeth prints in Fang's flesh from each of the Erasers' monstrous fangs. Fresh blood welled up steadily from each puncture. Around the bite, several of Fang's covert feathers were missing. There was a flap of skin hanging loosely from his wing where the Eraser had shaken him. Blood caked his pink, inflamed skin. _That probably needs_ _stitches. How the hell am I gonna do that?_

Iggy ran his fingers gently over the wound. His extra sensitive fingers picked up on every cut and scrape. From his expression, I could tell that things were worse than they appeared. And considering how bad it looked, Fang was in pretty bad shape.

"Igs? How bad is it?" I honestly didn't even want him to answer. But I needed to be strong: for me, the Flock, and Fang.

"I think he might've broken a bone," he whispered so the younger kids couldn't hear. "His skin's pretty messed up, as you can see. And he's lost a crapton of blood."

Anger rose in my body, contracting each of my muscles and causing my heart to race. I wanted to slam my fists on the table. I wanted to scream. I wanted to kill the Eraser all over again, make him suffer the second time around. Being a leader might seem pretty cool, but on days like this, it sucks.

Nudge dug through the supplies she had scrounged up. Looking at all the medical stuff made all of us tense. I could smell the antiseptic Iggy was pouring on the rag, my heart flitting, mind racing, body twitching… The School had messed us up something fierce. In ways not as obvious as our wings.

Fang shrieked in agony, slamming his legs on the table, when the antiseptic rag touched his bite. His wing immediately curled up against the pain, which only worsened his suffering. I ushered the kids out of the room; this was something they sure as hell didn't need to see. I rushed over to Fang and held down his injured wing with one hand. With the other, I stroked his pitch black hair, which was damp with sweat. I was stunned to see tears pushing their way out of his eyes. My heart broke a little bit.

"How are you doing, Fang?" I whispered sweetly, my breath blowing Fang's bangs out of his face. In his eyes was untold suffering. Nevertheless, he stayed planted firmly in his place. His knuckles had turned white from his death grip on the edge of the table.

"That's. A. Dumb. Question," he hissed. Each syllable was more stressed than the rest as Nudge and Iggy continued working on his wing. Horror spread through me as spittle and blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth. I must have shown it on my face, because Fang immediately shook his head.

"Bit my tongue," he growled. I smiled at him, which he returned weakly with light pink teeth and a blood smeared face.

"Max?" Nudge called. She sounded really nervous, which reassured me and Fang _tremendously_. I gave our patient a quick pat on the head, my only way to express affection, and joined her next to the wing. It looked a little cleaner, with all the blood wiped off. Many damp, rust-stained paper towels littered the table on either side of him. And the bleeding had stopped, thank God.

"I think he needs stitches or something," Nudge began in her trademark motor-mouth style. "Maybe blood, antibiotics, I dunno-"

"Nudge," I warned. This day was quickly making me lose patience, especially when I needed it most. "Calm down. He's here, he's alive, that's all we can process right now." Motioning with my hands, I instructed her to take a deep breath. She did, and for a fraction of a second, our hectic house was significantly quieter.

My mind was reeling with medical words that I knew but did not understand: suture, saline, peroxide. Words that I had picked up from my time at the School. _I guess first aid is mostly common sense_. No way in hell could I give Fang stitches though. Seriously, that would be painful for both of us.

"Well, we do heal extremely fast," Iggy noted. "But his wing feels really bad. Can we even heal bones?" That's a question I hadn't even thought of. I stopped breathing when I thought of a very real possibility: Fang may never fly again.

 _Stop thinking like that, Max_ , I thought. _The best thing you can do for Fang right now is to help him._ Which is what I set my mind to.

"Alright, we need to bandage him up. Right…?" Nudge and Iggy's confused silence really put my mind to rest. "GUYS!" They snapped to attention. "Bandages. Do we got any?" Nudge nodded furiously and materialized a large wad of bandaging from her pile of supplies.

"Perfect," I said. But really, I had no idea what I was doing. _The dressing goes around the injury_. _I think._ I gingerly wrapped the bandage around Fang's wing. He shifted so he could look back and watch me. His normally gorgeous, rich eyes were sunken and dull.

"You feeling okay?" I asked. He responded with a barely perceptible nod, then let his head drop heavily onto the table with a solid thud. He looked terribly pale, almost pure white. A significant, even dangerous amount of his blood had leaked out of his wing. Even with all the supplies Jeb had left us, I seriously doubt he left us the stuff to perform a bird-kid blood transfusion. _Like we could even figure out how._

In times like this, Nudge and Iggy proved themselves invaluable. It took just a few minutes to wrap his wing with gauze and beige bandage. And it actually looked half decent when we were done with him. Once I had reassured myself that Fang was more than a few seconds from death, I escaped into the kitchen. _Some juice would probably do him some good._ Our fridge was pathetically empty, as it often was with the six ferociously hungry bird-kid mutants. I did, however, find some apple juice. I loitered for a moment in front of the fridge. The cold air felt absolutely divine across my flushed, sweaty skin. It was like I was flying.

Back at the table, I gave Fang the juice and a couple Advil. When he finished chugging the juice, he tried to sit up. He must've been hella dizzy though, because he started to fall off the table and almost knocked over Iggy.

"Can you move your wing?" I pried. If Fang couldn't fly, he was essentially Eraser food. In making us their specimens, the jerks at the School had given us the perfect tool to fight them. Fang succeeded in wiggling his wing a little bit, and us four breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"That's a really good sign!" Nudge squealed. "So he's gonna be okay!" I seriously doubted that, but I wasn't gonna be the one to say it.

"Can I go to bed?" Fang murmured. A smile spread across my face.

"Yes, baby," I said in a falsely maternal voice. "Do you want a sucker too?" He scowled at me as I helped him off the dining table. Laughter is the best medicine, is it not? Nudge, however, had gone to the kitchen and gotten Fang a cookie from the batch Iggy made a few days ago. Fang devoured it like he does everything else, complete with crumbs flying every which way. So at least he was acting himself.

Fang walked painfully slow to his room: with help from me, of course. The whole time, he had his bandaged wing stuck awkwardly out from his body. Fang's room was just as dark and mysterious as he was. Sure, stuck in the mountains, we didn't have access to all the latest teen décor. I flicked the switch. Fang flinched against the burst of light. I led him over to the bed, which he flumped down on. Again, he grimaced with the pain.

I wanted to laugh at the ridiculous way he'd gotten comfortable on the bed. He was leaning on his left side with his face against the wall, his injured wing sticking straight up and his "good" one propping him up. But he really was in pain. So, as gently as I could, I pulled the comforter up to his wings. As I did, he held his breath. I would have given anything in that moment to be Angel, just so I could read Fang's guarded mind. Was he afraid, disgusted, excited? My heart was certainly fluttering, but given, it beat at about 180 bpm regularly.

We were quiet for a few awkward seconds. I wiggled my toes, bit my lip, and finally summoned the courage to say, "Night, Fang." Not, "You're brave" or "Feel better soon." Even though I could not see his face, I felt his warm smile. I could even hear it in his voice as he whispered back, "Night, Max."

As I was walking out, just about to turn out the light, he mumbled something.

"What was that?" I asked. He wriggled around under his covers so he could face me. A shadow fell perfectly across his face, accenting his soft, sultry features. _Damn, why is he so hard to read?!_ I swear, he looked like he was gonna cry again. His eyes darted from me to the corner of the room, then back to me.

"I was just saying, uh, thanks." It wasn't eloquent to say the least, but I could feel his sincerity. Fang was a guy of few words, but they carried meaning like a train carried freight. As you can tell, I don't have the linguistic talent he does. But I chuckled lightly. That really meant a lot to me. Our Flock was a family in the truest sense of the word: there for each other when we needed it the most.

I just shrugged and grinned. "We look out for one another." My words hung in the air for a moment. When I grew tired of the sappy sentimentality of the scene, which I did very quickly, I snuck out of the bedroom. Just for good measure, I left the door open a tiny crack.

"If you need anything, come get me," I whispered through the door.

Fang didn't respond, but I knew he had heard me.


	3. Chapter 3

I didn't get any sleep that night; but, in all fairness, Fang probably didn't either. My head pulsated painfully when I sat up in my bed. I was just too worried about the Eraser attack. It had been a long while since they had attacked us. _Now they know where we are._ My heart sank deep in my body: that meant we had to move, and soon. If there was one, the others couldn't be far behind.

By far, the most disturbing part of the attack was its nature. Just one Eraser? That was as rare as a wholesome pop singer. Not to mention its erratic behavior. It acted almost rabid _. And that's exactly what we need right now_ , I thought bitterly, as I am wont to do. _Rabid freaking Erasers._

I couldn't tell you how long I sat at the kitchen counter, staring out of the massive windows at the mountains far off in the distance. I desperately wanted to jump out the window and go for a refreshing morning soar. But I wasn't about to leave the rest of the Flock with an injured Fang and a blind kid. No offense to him, though. I mean, he could cook.

The sky was a pasty grey when I woke up, but was a fiery orange when Iggy, speak of the devil, piped up from behind me. Despite being without vision, his gait was confident and unfaltering, particularly as he perambulated the kitchen. In trying to control and mutilate us, the bastards at the School had instead created the best set of mutant freaks I had ever known.

"Morning, Max," Iggy mumbled, his voice thick with the anvils of the early morning hours. His wings were out, but he dragged them behind him.

"Morning, Iggy," I returned, rubbing my eyes. "Thanks for sweeping," I noted of his now dust-covered wings. Iggy merely rolled his eyes.

"Someone's gotta do it. What do you want for breakfast?" He pretended to carefully scrutinize the fridge. "I can't see anything in here, so looks like your options are pretty limited." He paused and turned to me. His icy eyes were focused intently on my forehead. "Waffles or pancakes?"

"Fang likes pancakes," I said. "Let's make him breakfast in bed." Iggy grinned at the uncharacteristic sappiness of my request. I shot him a poisonous glance, which is my favorite part about my relationship with Iggy.

In twenty minutes, we had a massive Leaning Tower of Flapjacks, complete with sugared strawberries and rich syrup. Iggy shuffled along behind me with the tray on the way to Fang's room. The door was still ajar, the way I had left it last night. Inside, the curtains were wide open, allowing a tidal wave of light to flood the room. The dark and mysterious man himself was sitting on his bed, watching the clouds drift by, his injured wing splayed beside him. As soon as he heard the door creak, his head snapped around to us. The Eraser attack must have made him hypersensitive. I don't blame him.

"How are you feeling?" I asked immediately. Fang didn't say a word: just flexed his wing. The slightest twitch of his face betrayed the pain he was hiding from me. His face was pale, ashen, but ever resilient. There were dark circles under his eyes; Fang must've not slept last night, just like me. _My little soldier._ I took the tray from Iggy and asked for a few minutes alone with Fang. Iggy obliged, but only left after wolf whistling and winking.

Now, our freaky genetics made us heal super quickly. Fang's broken wing should've been mostly healed by now. And he's got a really high pain tolerance to boot. So seeing him trying to conceal his pain was concerning to say the least. I daintily sat next to him on the bed and laid his muscular wing in my lap.

Underneath the bandage his wing was still mutilated. His skin was healing, but unevenly. Thick, scabby scar tissue covered the formerly shredded skin. A couple downy feathers were budding out of the naked patch. I ran my fingers along the length of his wing, checking to see if his broken bones had fused back together. They had, but his joint was heavily swollen. Fang was grinding his teeth throughout the exam against the pain.

"Give it to me straight, doc," he grunted as he stretched. His voice was a little croaky, so I handed him the tall glass of OJ, which he sucked down. "Am I gonna live?" I wanted to slap him on the back for his sass, but that didn't seem like a good idea with his injury. Instead, I nodded. But don't get me wrong; I was still hell nervous about everything. Fang was my other half and without him I was… incomplete, I guess.

"Eat a good breakfast," I instructed. "Today, you're on mandatory bed rest." Fang groaned. I knew this had to suck for him; Fang liked to play the 'big tough guy.' But the rest of the Flock and I needed him healthy and strong. And alive. I gave him a hug, which was strangely warm, as though Fang were running a low-grade fever.

I stood up and left Fang to his breakfast, flitting my wing at him in a 'goodbye' gesture. He attempted to do the same thing, causing him to draw a sharp inhale from the twinge of his wound. Outside his door, Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel were anxiously awaiting news on their older brother.

"How is he?" Nudge asked, her brown eyes wide with fear. "Is he gonna be okay? Can he fly? Is he going to die?!"

"NUDGE!" I growled, my head throbbing. "Remember what we all say about asking a thousand questions at once?" She shut up immediately. Gazzy was chewing nervously on his lip and his sister was holding his hand.

"Relax, everybody. Fang is gonna be just fine." The three of them practically melted with relief. I felt their collective exhale.

"Sweet," Gazzy hissed.

"Can I go in and see him?" Angel asked in her high little voice. I picked her up and hugged her as she wrapped her legs around my torso. Her feathers felt soft and silky against my calloused hands.

"Sorry, baby," I cooed. "Fang needs to get some rest. But he's gonna be just fine." She hopped down, flashing me a smile bright with innocence and raced her brother to the kitchen.

I was gonna follow them and get myself some pancakes, as if they'd actually leave any for me, when Nudge grabbed my arm.

"Max," she started. I could tell she was probing _,_ having sensed that I was withholding information. "What's wrong with Fang?" I sighed and dragged my socks in circles on the hardwood floor. "…Max? Come on, you need to tell me. I'm not a kid anymore." That had been Nudge's justification for everything since she'd turned 14. For her, that was some magic age that put her in the same category as me, Fang, and Iggy.

"He's fine, Nudge," I sighed. "He's still a little beaten up, that's all. Taking longer than usual to heal. But that was some freak attack, so I can imagine it'd take a while to recover. Now go get breakfast or something." This came off ruder than I had intended, as she shot me a leer and huffed on her way to the kitchen. If you thought regular teenager attitude was bad, try living with _mutant_ teenagers. Sucks.

Iggy's pancakes were heavenly. That kid could make a box mix recipe worthy of the Queen herself. I mowed my way through about 6 of them, hardly pausing for breath. Fang wasn't watching, so I didn't have to act ladylike. Not that I do anyway.

"Nudge," I tried to say through a mouthful of syrupy pancake. "After breakfast, can you take Gazzy out and do a patrol sort of thing? I wanna make sure there's no more Erasers around here." If she really wasn't a kid anymore, then I could trust her do to the chores I typically assigned myself or the other guys. She smirked, as I expected, and nodded tersely.

After doing the dishes, I went to my room to relax. My head had been hurting all morning and it was starting to get worse. I whipped my blinds closed and collapsed upon the bed. Being a mutant bird kid on the lam means never getting to fully relax. That's exhausting.

Despite my attempts, I could not fall asleep. My headache was just getting more and more excruciating. It felt like someone had skewered my head with a bicycle pump and proceeded to over-inflate my skull. I snapped my wings out and held them rigidly, gritting my teeth. The edges of my vision were flashing. The very pit of my stomach was rising. Convinced I was about to hurl, I stumbled into my bathroom.

The very ropes of my brain were being torn apart by some unknown force. At that moment, all I wanted was to die: that was the only escape from the pain. My chest heaved, in and out, stifled screams exiting with each exhale. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead and beaded on my upper lip. I had begun to drool. Later, I would thank my lucky stars Fang or the rest of the Flock wasn't there to see me. Normally, I was the indestructible Maximum Ride. Now, I was a shuddering mush huddled on the bathroom floor.

Suddenly, I felt a great release from the paroxysm in my brain. It was almost euphoric as the pain dissipated. My vision was replaced with bright white lights.

Then I heard… a Voice. Metallic, ungendered, stoic. All in my head.

 **"Max. Fang needs help."**

That was the last thing I remember before I passed out.


End file.
